


Have you ever been a Bunny?

by IncurablePeppermint



Category: Bob's Burgers (Cartoon)
Genre: Cochlear Implant, Future Fic, Hard of Hearing, Internal Monologue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-08-01 04:26:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16277768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncurablePeppermint/pseuds/IncurablePeppermint
Summary: Louise contemplates whether or not, after so many repairs, her hat is still the same hat.





	Have you ever been a Bunny?

**Author's Note:**

> This is set with Louise in her early 20s  
> Only tagged Teen+ for sporadic cursing

There’s a thought experiment called the Ship of Theseus that asks if after switching out all the wood and nails in a boat if it becomes a different boat. If every day you purposefully switch out a board and all the attached nails until you have changed out every single one, is it the same boat? If you have to repair the boat so much that you can’t say any part of it is the original wood, is it the same boat?

But _that_ is a ship in harbor. It’s no longer Theseus’ ship because Theseus never set foot on the goddamned boat. And then on the other hand is it _clear_ that there’s no longer a single old splinter lodged in between two of the replaced boards? No nail that got accidentally re-used? No bits of old pink fabric caught in the hand stitched repairs?

Louise purses her lips and stares down at her hat. That is maybe not her hat anymore. She has worn it so much. It has gone through so much. It has gotten wet, muddy, torn, ripped, snagged, stained, and so much more over the years. Replacement fabric has gotten her through crowded malls, outdoor concerts, and Gene’s avante-garde clown phase. And now it is a patchwork of well-matched fabric that visually perfectly matches the original.

She no longer remembers if any of the hat she holds in her hand now is the same hat she wore on her head in third grade. She knows that the majority of the hat cannot be the same, because it has expanded. She has a full grown adult head, not a tiny ass third grader head, and despite this the hat still fits. But it still is her hat, right? Even if the fibres aren't the same, this isn't like Theseus’ ship. Louise has worn this hat constantly. Patches and repairs have become part of the hat, stuffed with dandruff and the carcasses of long-dead lice.

And even if it isn't she cannot let herself think about the possibility too long. How will she handle the noise? Anywhere there are people there is so much noise, too much to process, and Louise needs _this_ hat to muffle them. To make their words sound like talking instead of strings of vague robotic noises. Like siri on the fritz.

She's grateful for the implant, in a lot of ways. She couldn't hear people through her left side much at all before it, or at least that's what Tina and her parents say. She was super young, she can't really remember it herself. Now she can listen for intruders, for assassins, for anyone that dare sneak up on her. But with her regular hearing right ear and her robot hearing left ear things get weird without her hat. She needs her hat. She needs her _ears._

She _vaguely_ remembers putting on the hat for a cold day and everything sounding _right_. She doesn't know if it sounds like how everyone else thinks it should, but it sounds so much more even. It doesn't feel like her head is split between two different worlds and she has to fight to decipher twice the people, twice the footsteps, twice the spoonfuls of mashed potatoes dropped onto her dinner plate.

And maybe if she gives herself the time she can get used to hearing without her hat. But she just _hates_ the sound so fucking much. She absolutely cannot fathom putting herself through that auditory hell. Especially while working the deli counter at Fresh Feed. So many screaming kids and crying babies and middle-aged assholes who couldn't be bothered to check the coupon policies _before_ cash out throwing tantrums about not getting their cinnamon toothpaste for free.

She tugs on her hat and closes her eyes. It _feels_ like her hat. She reaches for the remote, then flips on the television. It _filters_ like her hat. Even if it has been Ship of Theseused into a state of philosophical ambiguity, Louise is pretty sure it is her hat. She breathes a sigh of relief and relaxes into her couch. She has been anxious about her ears since this morning’s patch up. Really, she should have put the hat on much earlier, instead of just sitting there holding it and working herself up. Something about how a ship in harbor is safe, but that’s not what they’re built for? A hat in the hand might not be a new, different hat that doesn’t work anymore, but if she doesn’t put it on it doesn’t matter if it works or not anyway. The saying gets lost translating it to the situation, but it applies anyway, she thinks.

Louise flips the television back off and stands up, then goes to her window. She pulls back the heavy, noise-filtering curtains then opens the window itself and sticks her head out. “Eat me, world! I’m still a bunny and there’s nothing you can do about it!” she screams at no one in particular, following up her proclamation with a loud belly-laugh.


End file.
